


Fair Enough

by indecisive (darling_highness)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, because thorin is a moron sometimes, its basically makeup sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6429562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_highness/pseuds/indecisive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin makes the mistake of crossing Bilbo with a very big issue, and of course he's angry about it. Thorin finds a way to make it up to him. It's sex. </p><p>Let me know what you think. I'm pretty sure this is my first bagginshield smut piece I've written...</p><p>I wrote this for my wonderful friend, and ao3 is probably the easiest place to share it with her. Sorry it took so long to post ily!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Enough

Thorin’s fingers tap the arm of his throne. His servant watches with bated breath as he thinks.

“I have called you here,” he begins slowly, eyes drifting to Bilbo seated beside him, “to rally the men of Dale in preparation. As you are aware, reclaiming my throne was a success, and I wish to pursue this good fortune.” Thorin hesitated, his eyes drawn yet again to the figure of his lover. He could feel Bilbo bristling, nails biting into the wood of his seat. He already knew what was to be proposed. Many a late night quarrel was the outcome of such a thought. “We will send a party to reclaim Moria. In the name of my father and his before him.”

With nervous eyes, the young dwarf knelt at the foot of the throne glanced at Bilbo. Though his face was smooth, the creak in his chair and the stiffness of his body betrayed him. “My Lord,” he murmured, unsure of whose wrath he would rather incur. Rumours were not uncommon in the castle of the young hobbit’s… loud way of expressing his anger at his spouse. Many a chair has suffered the attention of young Master Baggins. “The last two times we have attempted to reclaim the mines of Moria, our warriors were slain upon arrival. Baldrim was lucky to escape with his life and report the fate of his brethren. The others are… apprehensive.”

“Do not defy my orders. Alert them to prepare at once. Go, now,” Thorin commands. His servant bows and scurries from the throne room, the heavy doors shutting behind him. Thorin is reluctant to turn to his husband, but he can feel Bilbo’s eyes on him, practically burning holes into his skin.

“So I suppose you’re going on as though we _hadn’t_ talked about this,” Bilbo says through gritted teeth.

“Bilbo,” Thorin sighs. “You know I must do this.”

“No, you mustn’t! You mustn’t do a thing like this, Thorin.” Bilbo stands, the heavy mahogany chair creaking its disapproval of his movement. “We spoke about this many, many times! You cannot risk your life for such a foolish desire!”

At the word foolish, Thorin tenses, a flash of anger burning beneath his skin. “Do not call me foolish. You know nothing of leading this kingdom. You could not possibly know of what I must and must not do. It is not foolish to want to reclaim what was once ours!” He glares at Bilbo, eyes flashing with his passion. Bilbo looks just as agitated.

“I have been by your side long enough to know what it requires, and risking certain death is not it. The the many lost upon Moria is already too much. Your name need not be added to the list of those lost. You will not drive the Orcs from that keep. Not yet. Do not let your greed blind you, you selfish man.” Bilbo’s robes shuffled as he moved to look down upon Thorin. His features bristled with rage. “I am tired of having the same argument.”

“Then do not argue with me. I know you tire easily, so do not waste your breath on such things.” Thorin replied, a petulant sniff escaping him. He held Bilbo’s gaze until the hobbit’s expression changed, morphing from anger to reproach.

Bilbo’s lips purse into a fine line. He stares at Thorin in a silence that seems to last minutes. “If anyone were to ask me why I married you,” Bilbo grits, “I could not for the life of me tell them why.” Turning on his heel, Bilbo storms from the hall, leaving Thorin in heated silence.

Thorin clenches his fists. He’s angry and offended by Bilbo’s words. The feeling of shame heats his cheeks as well. He knew how Bilbo felt about reclaiming Moria, and Thorin decided to proceed with the plan anyway. It was more than just what Bilbo wanted. It was about what would benefit the dwarves of the Misty Mountains. And yet, Thorin couldn’t seem to put that into convincing enough words for Bilbo.

He remains seated for a while, fingers steepled before his mouth, listening to footsteps echoing throughout adjacent corridors. An anxious fluttering in his stomach makes him stand. Thorin exits the throne room the same direction Bilbo did.

The hobbit doesn’t even look up from his book when Thorin finds him about half an hour later, in their own suite nonetheless. He is settled beneath a window with one of his books written in the common language, eyes scanning the page but not reading. He feels Thorin watching him, can see him in his peripheral vision, but ignores him. A prickle of anger tightens his throat and he remains silent. Bilbo finally remembers to flip the page of his book.

“Bilbo…” Thorin mutters, voice low. He shifts his weight.

“Hmm?” Bilbo tries to sound disinterested, index finger fiddling with the pages of his book. He keeps his eyes on it.

“I…” He sighs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I did not come to quarrel.”

“Have you come to disregard more of my advice? Have you decided to declare war against the elves?” His tone is sharp, anger palpable in his attitude. All semblance of his calm demeanour is gone. Bilbo knows Thorin would not even consider such things, but he won’t let go of his feelings on how ridiculous Thorin’s plan is or how insulted he was. How insulted he still is. Bilbo snaps his book shut, eyes locking onto Thorin’s face.

“You know I am not so foolish.”

“You are foolish enough to antagonise me.”

Thorin huffs, a wry smile twisting his lips. “I cannot say that is difficult to do.”

The novel hurling through the air just barely misses his head, throwing wisps of his silver-streaked locks up with the passing wind. Bilbo wears a pinched expression, his hands folded in his lap where his book was a moment ago. He rises. “I’m still angry with you.”

“Your actions have said as much.” Thorin is not as fazed as anyone else would be encountering a mad hobbit. “The mission to reclaim Moria is imperative to the progression of my kingdom, Bilbo. Why are you unable to understand that?”

“Oh I understand it perfectly fine, Thorin,” Bilbo hisses. “I just don’t give a damn. Entering Moria means certain death. For you, and every other dwarf involved.”

“I am aware of the risks. I am also aware of what is required. We are more prepared this time, better equipped to take on the orcs. We could win this, Bilbo! We could-“

“You cannot, Thorin! You know better!” Bilbo closes the distance between them, arching up on his toes ever so slightly. Their noses are almost touching, heated gazes locked. “You cannot win this, and I’ll be damned if I lose you to your greed! I almost lost you once before, and I can’t risk that again! Not again,” Bilbo’s voice wavers and he presses his fists to Thorin’s chest. He shudders out a sigh, moving to step away from the dwarf. Thorin grabs him by the wrist, his grip tight.

His expression is soft as he peers down at Bilbo, eyebrows still furrowed. “Bilbo…” He sighs, lifting his free hand to cup the hobbit’s cheek. “I apologise,” Thorin mutters, leaning in to brush his lips against Bilbo’s, “I did not realise that was your reason for… All this.”

“What else would it be, Thorin?” Bilbo whispers, pressing their lips together. “I love you dearly,” he breathes as they part.

“And I you,” Thorin replies, carding his fingers through Bilbo’s hair and pulling him in for another kiss. It’s different this time. Needier, hungry. Thorin’s grip on Bilbo’s wrist relaxes and the hobbit wraps his arms about Thorin’s neck, fingers curling into the soft furs of Thorin’s garb. Bilbo’s lips part and Thorin deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring the warmth of his lover’s mouth. With his hands now on Bilbo’s hips, Thorin guides them towards the bed. He breaks away only to lavish Bilbo’s neck in attention.

“I’m still angry with you,” Bilbo gasps, head tilted back.

“Let me make it up to you.” Thorin murmurs against his skin. His hands slide up Bilbo’s front as he deftly undoes the buttons of his shirt. Bilbo presses his lips to Thorin’s jaw and hums his consent. He pushes the cloak from the dwarf’s shoulders and it pools around his elbows and Thorin drops it the rest of the way once Bilbo’s shirt is open and on the floor. Thorin nudges Bilbo, urging him onto the bed as their lips meet again.

With a hand in Thorin’s hair, Bilbo slides up onto the bed, careful not to break the kiss and bring Thorin with him. Bilbo lays back, welcoming the weight of the taller man over his body. Thorin slides one knee between Bilbo’s thighs and angles his head for a deeper kiss, groaning from the feeling of Bilbo’s tongue against his own. The room is silent save the sound of their kissing, and both eventually grow fervent with need, Bilbo gently tugging at Thorin’s hair. A quiet noise escapes Thorin’s lips and he grinds his hips against Bilbo’s, drawing a similar sound from the hobbit. Thorin sits up to draw his tunic over his head and cast it aside before bending to press kisses to Bilbo’s chest, nipping occasionally at the tender flesh. Bilbo moans, arching his back towards Thorin’s mouth, asking for more. The dwarf’s calloused fingers brush over Bilbo’s sides the way he knows he likes, fingers slotting against his ribs. Bilbo dropped his hands to Thorin’s trousers, working them open to slip a hand inside. Thorin outright moans when Bilbo brushes his fingers over his hardening cock. He inhales slowly, looking up at Bilbo through his lashes.

Bilbo meets his gaze and groans, tilting his head back against a pillow. “Don’t give me that look,” he moans.

Thorin slides up, a coy grin on his lips as he takes Bilbo’s face in his hand, making him look at him again. “I know you cannot resist it,” He says, pressing a slow kiss to Bilbo’s pliant mouth. In retaliation Bilbo works his hand into Thorin’s undergarments, fingers wrapping around the shaft of his erection. Thorin lets loose a breathless chuckle, low and rumbling in his throat. “You play dirty, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo smiles, humming as he strokes Thorin’s hardening cock. “I only aim to please.”

As Bilbo continued his ministrations in a steady rhythm, a dark look grew in Thorin’s eyes. He panted softly, ducking his head for a moment before slipping his fingers into the waist of Bilbo’s pants to work them down. He wasn’t satisfied until they were off, on the ground to be forgotten. Or at least left there until he’d been done ravishing Bilbo two or three times over.

“Took you long enough,” Bilbo murmurs, and he releases Thorin’s erection to find their lubricant stashed in the bedside table. Thorin sits back on his knees, peering down at the naked form of his lover, adoration in his eyes.

He remains in that position until Bilbo makes an impatient sound in his throat, sitting up on his elbows. Thorin frees himself of his trousers completely, taking the vial of lubricant from Bilbo. He kisses him again, a smile on his lips. “Your impatience is endearing.”

Bilbo blushes and laughs quietly. “I can’t resist you,” he sighed happily into the kiss.

They went slowly from there, Thorin working Bilbo open one slicked finger at a time, revelling in each other’s heated gasps of pleasure. Bilbo loved the feel of Thorin’s thick digits inside of him, so he didn’t complain when that was all the stimulation he received for a while, Thorin scissoring and curling his fingers within Bilbo’s entrance, preparing him.

Bilbo’s sweet moans made Thorin’s cock ache with need. He nuzzled the hobbit’s ear, asking “Are you ready for me?”, his breath hot against Bilbo’s neck.

Bilbo nodded and wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist, urging him on. “‘m ready,” he gasped. Thorin took a moment to slick up his cock. “ _Thorin_ ,” Bilbo whines again, voice high and needy. Thorin murmured sweet nothings in Bilbo’s ear, hand coming to grasp his hip as he aligned himself with Bilbo’s entrance. Bilbo moans when he slides the tip in, gasping as Thorin slides himself in further, ever so slowly. It’s agonising and delicious and just _right_ , like it always is with Thorin. His thighs tighten around Thorin’s waist and Thorin groans once he’s fully sheathed in Bilbo’s tight heat. He sets a steady pace with his thrusts, hips moving shallowly at first. Even the slight movements are enough to make Bilbo moan, arching his chest against Thorin’s. Gradually, the thrusts get deeper, Thorin sliding out and pushing back in to feel that blissful heat again and again. All the while he lavishes Bilbo’s chest and neck with kisses and love marks. His hand makes its way down Bilbo’s stomach, coming to tease his throbbing erection. With the double stimulation, Bilbo makes another high-pitched noise, his fingers pressing into the flesh of Thorin’s muscular shoulders. “Thorin!” He moans. A stream of needy sounds leaves his kiss-swollen lips with each thrust, the sounds getting louder and more desperate the first time Thorin hits his sweet spot. Thorin notices the change in his exclamations, lifting his head to smirk knowingly down at Bilbo. He emulates the angle of the thrust again, and again he hits it just right. Bilbo’s muscles tense as he’s played with mercilessly, Thorin’s cock brushing that bundle of nerves and his fingers on his cock. It’s almost too much. Bilbo rocks his hips to meet Thorin’s thrusts, his need for release becoming more urgent.

A hitch in Thorin’s breathing and the stutter in his hips lets him know Thorin is close, his thrusting becoming more frantic and less controlled. With a low moan, Thorin finds his release, muttering Bilbo’s name against his skin. Bilbo moans at the feeling of being filled yet again and Thorin continues to stroke his cock. He finds Thorin’s lips in a messy kiss, mouths moving together as Thorin relaxes and Bilbo tenses. He comes into Thorin’s tight fist, the heels of his feet pressing into the small of Thorin’s back. He moans into their kiss as his hips buck towards Thorin’s fist, still pumping as he works the hobbit through his orgasm.

Bilbo’s muscles relax and he lays sprawled out over the luxurious pillows and blankets of their bed, Thorin’s body on top of him. They lay in silence, Bilbo carding his fingers through Thorin’s hair absently.

“If the outcome of my upsetting you leads to love making, I think I should aggravate you more often,” Thorin muses with a soft chuckle.

Bilbo tugs his hair just a bit, fingers tightening around the soft locks. “You could always make love to me without the pretence of it being an apology, you know.” Despite his chiding tone, Bilbo smiles to himself.

“Oh, but you’re never in the mood,” Thorin murmurs, nuzzling his face against Bilbo’s neck and sighing contentedly.

Bilbo hummed. “I beg to differ. Really, I do. You just come to me at inconvenient times.”

“Like when?”

“I’m usually not in the mood to make love when I’m gardening, Thorin.”

“Fair enough,” Thorin smiled. He shut his eyes, content with the silence that followed.


End file.
